“Be natural. The natural unaffected girl is more dangerous to the male species than the artificial ones.” — Barbara La Marr
Source: Will McLaughlin’s column “Twixt Stage and Screen” (1923)
by Barbara La Marr
I hate them
Because to me they seem like the souls
Of foolish women who have passed on.
Poor disillusioned fluttering things
That find, now as always, irresistible
The warmth of the flame.
Taking no heed of the warning
That merely singed their wings.
They fluttered nearer and nearer
Till wholly consumed to filmy ashes
Of golden dust.
I fear them.
Yet, I watch them fascinated.
They make me see the folly
That what it seems women are created for.
Photo: The White Moth (1924), an adaptation of her poem.
“Everybody is beautiful to some one.” — Barbara La Marr
Photo: The White Moth (1924)
The White Moth (1924)
“When I am happy I am like a cat, sleek and purring, quite useless. It is when I am unhappy, with an ache perhaps in my heart, that I do my finest work.” — Barbara La Marr
“Clothes bore me. I hate to shop. I am not interested in clothes. They make no difference in my life….[M]y secretary is exactly my size. If I want anything, she can go to the fittings for me.” — Barbara La Marr
Source: Helen Lee (1923)
“I’m so tired of trying on clothes for pictures I’ll never bother much about getting any for myself. I don’t care much about gorgeous clothes. It seems to me much more important to have something a little individual or particularly suited to your own style. Clothes ought to be subservient to your personality. A few days ago a girl came to see me from a fashion magazine. She asked me what I thought of fashions. I said I hated them. ‘Oh, but you mustn’t,’ she protested. ‘I’m asking this for a fashion magazine.’ I couldn’t bear that girl, but I explained to her as carefully as possible that I thought personality – individuality was of the greatest importance and fashions just a minor consideration.” — Barbara La Marr
Source: Helen Klumph (1923)
Love and Hate
by Barbara La Marr
I love you—
Your lips, your hair, your eyes,
Your willful, reckless, tender lies.
I hate you!
I hate you—!
Your smile, your curls, your glance,
You pagan worshipper of Chance…
I love you!